


The Alphabet Affair B

by spikesgirl58



Series: The Alphabet Affair [2]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 14:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5669635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon didn't mean to lose track of time.  Sometimes things just happen.  Prompts: Buried and Bagatelle!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Alphabet Affair B

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for the Beta Challenge in lj's MFUWSS community. Each month, two prompt words are given to reflect the overall challenge - the alphabet

One of the problems with being a handsome jet-setting spy were the hours they keep. Or didn’t keep as the case might be. A week ago, Napoleon Solo had been in Singapore, quaffing a Singapore Sling at the Raffles Hotel. Three days later, he was in Caracas, about to meet his fate at the end of a very nasty-looking pike. Now, thanks to Illya’s intervention, he was back in New York and his internal clock didn’t know which end was up.

 

Napoleon stifled a yawn and returned to the task at hand. His mind was only slightly engaged by Vanessa’s Chanel No 5 perfumed hair and the ample cleavage she revealed every time she bent over to retrieve this or that file. This was an odd situation for Napoleon. Usually he was all hands on deck whenever a pretty woman was around, but lately, he’d been… not interested, for lack of a better phrase. And he really didn’t know why. That bothered him, but only slightly.  


He should have been delighted with everything Vanessa had to offer, but all he could do was think about his dinner with Illya and restlessly glance at his Timex again.  


“Is something wrong, Napoleon?” Vanessa’s tone was less than happy.  


“What do you mean?”  


“That’s about the fifteenth time in the last hour that you’ve checked your watch. Is my company that boring? You have me feeling about as wanted as a porcupine in a balloon factory.” She pouted prettily. “I thought you wanted me to be here with you.”  


“No, no, it’s not that, my dear. I just have an appointment I can’t be late for.”  


“All right, who is she?” Vanessa’s voice swapped annoyance for outrage in the space of a second.  


“Who? Not a she. It’s… not important who it is. I just can’t be late.”  


“Then maybe you’d rather finish this bagatelle up by yourself, so that you aren’t distracted. It certainly doesn’t require two people.” “Oh, you aren’t distracting me.” He knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment it spilled from his mouth. That was the problem he had with women at times.  


“Well, I never!” She threw her armful of folders at him and stormed out, leaving Napoleon buried in a flurry of paper and file folders.  


“I probably deserved that,” Napoleon said to no one, as he was now alone. It was times like this he missed Illya the most. Not only was he good with these sorts of tasks, but there would be time to talk and laugh. He laughed more when Illya was around than he did with anyone else. Not a lot of people knew it, but Illya had a wicked sense of humor and Napoleon could totally relax with him. This dinner meant a lot to his partner, although Napoleon wasn’t sure why. It had been all Illya had talked about for the last few days.  


It meant a lot to his partner and that made it doubly important to Napoleon. He’d never had much luck with partners, either they weren’t a good fit or they ended up dead. Illya seemed to be pretty resilient when it came to such things. And Napoleon was determined not to screw this up. For the first time, he had a partner he liked and both compassion and responsibility to and for. With new resolve, he buckled down to his task.  


*****  


“What are you still doing here?”  


That made Napoleon’s head pop up. There was something about this case file that was chewing on his suspicion bone. Something was very wrong. Chris Gesell was standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry, what?”  


“Well, it is way past quitting time for most agents. Guess that’s what they mean by leading by example.”  


Napoleon checked his water. “It’s only three.”  


“Yeah, two hours ago. I really admire your ability to bury yourself in the simplest task.”  


“What?” Napoleon shook his wrist and listened. The normal tick tock had slowed to just a tick.

“Damn, I must have forgotten to wind it.” He stood and sighed. “I am a dead man.”  


It took precious minutes to make sure the files were secure, then Napoleon grabbed his jacket and flew for the exit. Or at least he tried to. As per usual when he was running late, the world was against him.  


First he was stopped by a junior agent who had several questions about his assignment that ended up involving Mr. Waverly and the Tokyo office. Surely Illya wouldn’t fault him for that.  


Then Napoleon was grabbed by a bevy of secretaries heading out for a bridal shower. For some reason, they decided kissing him meant good luck for the bride. He most certainly didn’t want to show her any ill will or refuse a glass of champagne when a bottle magically appeared and again trusted Illya might understand.  


The rush hour traffic, tragic to begin with, was snarled even more by a late afternoon shower, and there was a traffic accident and then…  


He looked in his rear view mirror and cursed. He pulled over as best he could and waited for the cop to approach him.  


“Where’s the fire, buddy?”  


“Well, I’m rather late for an appointment.”  


“You just blew through a four way stop back there. Must be a very important meeting.”  


“It is…”  


“Am I smelling alcohol on your breath, sir?”  


“I had a glass of champagne. I am really in a hurry.”  


“So am I. License and registration, please.”  


Instead of his driver’s license, Napoleon pulled out his UNCLE ID card. “Will this do instead? I’m on my way to save the world.” His world, but the officer didn’t need to know that.  


The cop looked at the ID and then at Napoleon. “A real spy?”  


Napoleon pulled back his lapel to reveal his weapon. “With a real gun and everything, sir.”  


The police officer’s reaction was so extreme that Napoleon had half expected a SWAT team to meet him outside the restaurant.  


He tossed the key to the valet and raced inside, nearly collided with some hapless guest – a hapless guest who proved to be his partner.  


One look at the anger in Illya’s eyes and Napoleon forget all about his well-rehearsed excuse and blurted out, “Christ, Illya, I’m sorry, I totally forgot about this.”  


Illya studied him at length and then the anger was replaced by an expression of profound hurt. It was as if this had turned from him just being late for dinner to some enormous betrayal of trust.  


“Whatever your excuse was, Napoleon, I’m certain she was worth it.”  


Napoleon caught Illya’s elbow as he turned to leave. “No, really, I was working.”  


“I’m sure you were.”  


Illya yanked his arm free and left. And Napoleon, rooted to the spot, just watched him go. He had the sense that his world was silently starting to collapse and he was powerless to stop it.  


No, not powerless, he thought and started back out the door only to run into the police officer and a stranger  


“Here he is, Chief just like I said.”  


“So he is, but I am still not convinced.”  


“Show him, mister, show him your ID.”  


It was useless to try and follow Illya. He knew that the Russian would have disappeared into the shadows by now.  


“Sure, why not?” With a sigh of resignation, Napoleon pulled it out.  


“Wow, a real spy.” The police chief whistled and showed it to a couple coming in. “Look at this! He’s a real spy. Just like James Bond.”  


Napoleon made a face and sighed again. “Yes and M is going to love this.”


End file.
